Sinners Shall Entice
by Gamma Orionis
Summary: Since the Dark Lord's fall, Narcissa has been a perfect wife to Lucius Malfoy, the sort that every woman wishes she were. But now the Dark Lord is rising again, he has freed his Death Eaters, and that means that Narcissa has to face Rodolphus Lestrange again... Written for het-bigbang on LiveJournal.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Written for the het_bigbang on LiveJournal – a challenge wherein writers write a 25K or longer story featuring a heterosexual couple and artists create art for it. Twisted_slinky did a wonderful job on the art, which can be viewed here: archiveofourown**DOT**org/collections/Het_Big_Little_Bang_2012/works/493525

Many thanks also to RubyRed. 950 for betaing the story (on very short notice too…)

Enjoy!

)O(

Narcissa clung to Lucius's arm, her breast heaving with every deep, shuddering breath she took as she watched with teary eyes, the Death Eaters newly sprung from Azkaban being marched into her manor. She could not have said whether she cried for pity because every one of them looked so _broken_, so feeble and diseased and far from the good health she had known them all to have possessed once, or whether her tears were for fear because now, she could no longer deny, even in the deepest part of her soul, what she had known _logically_ for months – that the Dark Lord was rising again.

"Cissy," Lucius whispered in her ear, "propriety."

Narcissa nodded very slightly, just enough to indicate that she had heard her husband, then straightened up, putting a small smile on her face – large enough to be visible but small enough to indicate that she was not really _happy_ to see her home being taken over by those that the Dark Lord had seen fit to spring from prison.

Not _happy_, but willing. Willing, because her husband was a Death Eater and that meant that they both had to do exactly as the Dark Lord wished.

"Don't you have a _hello_ for your sister?" Bellatrix rasped, stepping out of line and looking at Narcissa with hollow, feverish eyes. Narcissa cringed automatically, then bit her tongue and straightened, forcing her smile wider. She reached out to touch Bellatrix's shoulders.

"I have missed you so, Bella," she said quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"You wouldn't have missed me _so_ if you'd ever bothered to visit Azkaban…"

"I couldn't do that, Bella, you know – please don't blame me for–"

Before Narcissa could finish, or before Bellatrix could cut her off, the Dark Lord, who had followed the parade of Death Eaters into Malfoy Manor, laid a hand firmly on Bellatrix's shoulder and she froze, her cheeks flooding with colour and her eyes going to him.

"Move along," the Dark Lord hissed at Bellatrix, letting his hand drop after only one lingering moment of contact, and Bellatrix nodded quickly, falling back into line with the other Death Eaters and marching upstairs, towards the row of bedrooms that Lucius and Narcissa had been ordered to prepare for them.

"We are grateful for your hospitality," the Dark Lord said, looking now at Lucius and Narcissa. His voice, high and cold, made Narcissa wonder if perhaps he was mocking them, but she did not dare look up to see whether a smile was twisting his mouth or whether he looked cold and serious, as he so often did.

"It is our honour, my Lord," Lucius spoke up quietly, and Narcissa was grateful that she was not required to respond. She wasn't sure that she would have been able to do it without crying.

He – the Dark Lord – inclined his head, then swept up the stairs, after his Death Eaters, and only when Narcissa and Lucius were alone again did she collapse.

"I can't do this, Lucius," she sobbed, falling into his arms and burying her face in his shoulder. "I can't! Please – please don't put me through this, I can't abide having these… _people_ in our home!"

"There's nothing I can do about it, Cissy. You know that."

"But you _can_, Lucius!" she whispered hysterically, though she knew perfectly well that the Dark Lord would be no more willing to take orders from Lucius than from her. "Please, I don't- I can't–"

"I know that this is difficult for you, Cissy…" Lucius rested his hand on her back, drawing her comfortingly closer into the embrace. "But we need to give up our home to the service of the Dark Lord – and think…" He lowered his voice to the quietest whisper he could manage, and Narcissa could hear the fear straining it, as hard as he tried to conceal it. "It is better than giving up our lives… or our son."

"That's true," Narcissa whispered tearfully, nodding and clinging to her husband as if he could protect her, but what he said was little comfort.

No surprise – he didn't know why she didn't want the Death Eaters there, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Narcissa tried to come up with excuses as to why she could have nothing to do with the Death Eaters. It pleased her to no end that none of them were strong enough to come to dinner, for that at least meant that she needn't try to carry on conversations, but try as she might to avoid it, she was still required – by the Dark Lord and, moreover, by her husband – to play the hostess.

So it was that, a few days after they had been brought into her home, she was standing in front of Rodolphus Lestrange's room, holding a bowl of soup in shaking hands and not wanting to knock.

She looked down at the soup, watching the ripples in the surface from her trembling hands. She was terrified that she was about to spill it, and did not trust herself to take one hand off to knock. The last thing she wanted was to appear before Rodolphus soaked in the soup she was supposed to feed to him…

"Rodolphus?" she called softly, after an agonizingly long moment of fighting with herself over what to do.

There was silence, and for just a second, Narcissa allowed her heart to leap, thinking that Rodolphus might be asleep, so she could just leave the soup and then she wouldn't have to talk to him. But then she heard a voice – soft, rough and utterly unfamiliar.

"Cissa?"

"I brought you some soup," she told him, leaning closer to the door. "Let me in, please."

There was another pause, then the door swung open, and Narcissa almost dropped the bowl.

When she had seen Rodolphus trooping into the house with the other Death Eaters that had been released from Azkaban, he had not looked at her and she had avoided paying attention to him, so she had not had a chance to see just what a toll Azkaban had taken on him.

His face was pallid, drawn and hollow. His eyes were sunken deep into their sockets, shadowed, and they looked to her distinctly _haunted._

For a long moment, he stared at her as though he'd never seen anything like her before, then he slowly slipped his tongue out and dragged it around his thin lips.

"Cissa," he croaked.

"You ought to sit back down," Narcissa whispered. Her heart was in her throat.

"Sit down with me…"

She stepped in, and Rodolphus sank back down onto his bed. Narcissa laid the bowl of soup on his bedside table, then slowly slid into the hard, straight-backed chair beside his bed. The discomfort of her seat reminded her to sit stiffly upright.

"Long time," he said, breaking off to cough wetly into his hands. "No see…"

"Here…" She produced a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to him, letting him wipe his mouth. A smear of blood was left behind.

"As I was saying," he continued, lowering the cloth and looking at her, "It's been a long time. You didn't visit."

"Of course I didn't." Narcissa dropped her voice and glanced nervously over her shoulder, just to be sure no one was watching. "I couldn't traipse into Azkaban to visit a convicted Death Eater… I'd have been locked in there with you if anyone found out!"

"And wouldn't that have been nice?" Rodolphus's mouth twisted into a sneer. His teeth were chipped and rotten and Narcissa looked away. "We could have visited – wouldn't that have been lovely?"

"Don't be this way, Rodolphus," she whispered. "You know why I didn't come to see you, and you would understand if you were–"

"If I were in my right mind?" Rodolphus asked, sitting up a bit and glaring at Narcissa. "Is that what you were going to say? You think I'm _not_ in my right mind _now_?"

"Of course you're not! You've just come out–"

"That doesn't mean that I have gone mad!" Rodolphus hissed. "I am _perfectly_ sane, as you would know if you took a moment to_talk to me!_"

"I'm here talking to you right now, aren't I?" Narcissa said quietly. She wanted to cry, wanted to run out of his room and slam the door and fling herself into Lucius's arms. She wanted to forget all about Rodolphus and what he was saying to her…

"Look at me, then!"

She raised her eyes slowly, looking at him rather nervously and shifting in the hard seat. "Rodolphus, I _have_ missed you… I've missed you terribly, but if I'd gone to Azkaban to see you–"

"Couldn't you have said you were going to see your sister and just… dropped in on me?"

"You think they would have suspected me any less for that?" Narcissa hissed. "I told people that Bellatrix was no sister to me after she was locked up – I couldn't have very well gone in to visit her…"

"You would have found a way if you really wanted to," Rodolphus mumbled, turning away from her and staring at the wall. "I know you're clever enough for that, even though most people _do_ think you're stupid…"

"They used to," Narcissa said coolly. "Not anymore. Things have changed, Rodolphus, and you know that as well as I do, even if you weren't here to watch them change. If you would look at me–"

"_You're_ the one who's not looking at _me!_"

"And pay _attention_ to what you saw," Narcissa continued, ignoring his interruption, "then you'd be able to see that. I'm not a stupid, fragile little girl anymore."

Rodolphus stared at her, and Narcissa thought again how terribly haunted his eyes looked. She did not care to think what he must have been seeing for all those years that he'd been in Azkaban – she knew that he had witnessed terrible things as a Death Eater and having to relive them would surely have taken a toll on anyone. For a moment, she actually felt guilty for her harshness, but then reminded herself that it was _he_ who had begun the fight.

"Bellatrix is the fragile one now," Rodolphus said after a long time.

Narcissa looked away. She had been avoiding seeing her sister for fear of what she might have become, what Azkaban might have turned her into, and if even Rodolphus, who, to use a cliché, worshipped the very ground that Bellatrix walked upon, thought that she was weak now, then clearly Narcissa was making the right decision.

"You still love her, don't you?" she said, and then winced, aware of how terribly that had sounded like an accusation. As though it was a bad thing for him to love his wife – of course it wasn't; it was a wonderful thing. She should have been _glad_ that he loved Bellatrix, because she loved Lucius and they could both be happy with the people they had married…

"She was… very much changed by Azkaban," said Rodolphus, quietly, after a long moment of tense silence following Narcissa's question. "Far more than I would have expected. I could hear her every day, screaming, and still…"

Narcissa looked at him, leaning forward a bit without even realizing it. "And still?"

"And still," he murmured, "I didn't expect her to look… as she did, when we were let out."

"And how does she look now that you have been let out?"

"Have you not seen her?" Rodolphus asked, and when Narcissa shook her head, he let out a short, sharp bark of laughter. "You're the wiser one, then. You would not recognize her if you saw her."

"Is it- is it truly that bad?" Narcissa asked quietly, though she knew perfectly well that the answer was yes and that the answer would, moreover, tear Rodolphus apart to give. She loathed how badly she knew she was hurting him, yet did not dare to say it in any other way.

"Yes," he said simply, and Narcissa sighed, sitting back.

"Oh…"

"But," he continued, gazing up at the ceiling, his eyes becoming unfocussed as he looked, "it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what she looks like, or what she's become."

"You still love her, then?"

"Yes," Rodolphus told her, again with a terrible simplicity that would have broken Narcissa's heart, had she not been so resolute in her wish never to let Rodolphus hurt her. "I do still love her."

"So then–" Narcissa's voice trembled. "What do you want with me?"

"It is possible to love two people, Cissa." Rodolphus reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand, and he looked at her with such wide and intent eyes that every part of Narcissa was overcome with the urge to fling herself into his arms, sob into his shoulder that she loved him and would gladly be with him if he would have her; Lucius and Bellatrix be damned.

But she didn't.

"No," she said, pushing his hand away and standing up. "It isn't."


	3. Chapter 3

"You've been acting strangely, Cissy," Lucius murmured when Narcissa crawled into bed with him that night, laying her head on his chest but avoiding eye contact. "I know that it's difficult for you, having all these people in your home…"

"It's not so bad," Narcissa said quietly.

_Not so bad except for Rodolphus._

"Then what's wrong?"

_What's wrong_, she thought, pressing her lips together hard and squeezing her hands into fists in the blankets, _is that Rodolphus is back and he's not supposed to be because I'm not supposed to love him or have anything to do with him anymore. I'm married to you and I love you, but I can't tell him or you either…_

"Nothing's wrong, Lucius," she said, a bit more sharply than she had intended.

"Don't lie to me, Cissy. You aren't a good liar."

_Funny. Because I'm a good enough liar to have convinced you that I never slept with another man, that I was a virgin when you took me to bed on our wedding night and that I was never unfaithful to you after that. I'm a good enough liar that you never once thought I had another man on my mind when I closed my eyes while you made love to me…_

"Nothing's wrong, Lucius," she repeated calmly. "I'm just a touch tired… a touch… I'm a little bit strained at the moment, is all."

He sighed, then put his hand beneath her chin, lifting her head so that she was eye to eye with him. "Cissy…"

"What?" she asked, her voice choking with tears.

"Cissy… I understand that this is difficult for you – all of this. It's difficult for me too, but I understand how- how powerless you feel…"

_You don't understand anything_, she thought, her lips pressing together, but she didn't say so. If Lucius wanted to think that he understood her, she wouldn't stop him – better that he thought he understood than that he _really_ did.

"And I know that it must be doubly hard for you, seeing your sister…"

"I haven't talked to Bellatrix yet," Narcissa said abruptly, interrupting him.

"Oh- haven't you?"

"No." She shook her head decisively. "I don't think I want to see her at all for a while," she added, a little more quietly.

"You're not ready to see what Azkaban did to her," Lucius said, and the way he said it, it sounded more like a statement of fact than a question about Narcissa's feelings. All the better – if he wanted to think that, then Narcissa wouldn't have to explain herself.

"That's right, isn't it?" Lucius asked, lowering his voice to a soft, compassionate whisper. He threaded his fingers through her hair, lifting her head. "If it's not…"

"It is," Narcissa said swiftly, interrupting him. "That's it, Lucius, that's it exactly…"

_And there's nothing more to it so you should stop asking _now…

"Oh dear, Cissy…" Lucius petted her hair gently, and Narcissa buried her face in his chest, her whole body heaving with sobs.

"Why is everything so difficult?" she whispered, and Lucius did not answer. She hadn't expected him to, of course – there wasn't any real answer, not one that he could give and not one that anyone else could give, not ever.

Everything was wretched. Everything hurt.

Why couldn't she just have fallen in love with Lucius in the first place? He had been such a good man, so perfect when they were first courting. He was polite to her, always charming and sweet, never one to hurt her or try to make things difficult for her. Andromeda and Bellatrix had even teased her, saying that she didn't deserve such a wonderful man as him. They had said that it was unfair that she should have him while they were stuck with the Lestranges, but it had always been in good fun. There had always been an unspoken agreement that they didn't mean what they said and that they were happy for their younger sister.

But Narcissa hadn't been happy for herself.

She had looked with such jealousy at Andromeda, because Rabastan was clever and intelligent and understood her. When Andromeda disappeared onto the moors in fits of anger and hatred for the world, it had been Rabastan who could follow her out and bring her back with a smile on her face. Rabastan – sweet, sensitive, thoughtful Rabastan…

But then Andromeda had run away and she had given him up, and if only Narcissa had been a little bit younger, married a little bit later, she might have had a chance to be Rabastan's bride.

But for every jealous thought that Narcissa had about Rabastan, there were a dozen about Rodolphus. Rodolphus – he was such a perfect man, just the sort that any woman would have wanted.

Bellatrix had scorned him – not so much as to make it seem as though she didn't want him, but certainly enough to make it seem as though he wasn't her ideal match - saying that he was weak and foolish, but Narcissa had never seen that. He was stoic - to the point of stubbornness, perhaps – and serious, and beautiful.

Oh, but he had been so beautiful when they were young.

She could still remember how he had looked on his and Bellatrix's wedding day, so solemn that Narcissa had been almost intimidated by him, but with a gleam of happiness in his eyes.

The gleam that had disappeared when he had taken her outside and the two of them had made love against the chapel wall, breathless and silent for fear of being heard.

Narcissa had often seen lust in Rodolphus's eyes when he looked upon her – that had been so from the first time she had seen him, she thought – but it had only been after a terribly long time that she fancied that she head started seeing love.

It must have been after Bellatrix joined the Death Eaters.

That had, if Narcissa was not mistaken, marked something of a turning point in everyone's life, not just Bellatrix's. For Bellatrix, of course, it had been a wonderful thing. She had finally become one of a group that she had idolized since first it rose to prominence - and the first woman, no less. She was at last able to step outside the boundaries set by Pureblood society about what women could and could not do. She was at last able to make herself known as a great witch. Things had been terribly happy for Bellatrix.

But things had been wretched for everyone else.

Mostly her.


	4. Chapter 4

Narcissa had been the first one that Bellatrix had told about the affair.

She could still, all these years later, remember every detail of what had happened.

Narcissa was sitting in her parlour, an embroidery hoop in her lap, gently stabbing herself with the tip of the needle instead of sewing and watching little beads of blood bubble to the surface of her skin and burst when she touched them. It was hypnotic, watching the tiny crimson blossoms appear on her fair hands.

There was a knock on the door and Narcissa rose swiftly, brushing the blood from her fingers on her handkerchief, and when she opened the door, she was met with Bellatrix, whose eyes were glazed over and who had a positively beatific smile on her face.

"Bellatrix? What's happened – is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Cissy..." Bellatrix breathed. She pushed back her hair, which was loose and tumbled around her shoulders in dishevelled ringlets. "Nothing's wrong – everything's completely right... may I come in?"

"Of course…" Narcissa beckoned her inside, her heart beating quickly. She was unsure whether she liked Bellatrix in this state. It was unnerving to see her strong, eternally composed older sister flushed and near to giggling like a schoolgirl. It, in fact, made Narcissa rather nervous.

Bellatrix floated in, her lips curved up into the widest smile that Narcissa had seen her wear since her wedding day, when she had strode down the aisle with such confidence and been taken into Rodolphus's arms…

_Don't think about that, Narcissa, don't you _dare_ start thinking about that!_

"What is it, Bella?" Narcissa asked.

In answer, Bellatrix pulled up the arm of her dress, and Narcissa flinched. She had known for a long time that her sister had intentions of joining the ranks of the Death Eaters, along with Lucius, along with Rodolphus and Rabastan and so many men that Narcissa could not have named if she had tried, but she had never fully expected Bellatrix's dream to come true. She had, in fact, been praying that it would not, for as soon as Bellatrix was a Death Eater, that meant that Narcissa was the only useless sister left…

"You… you were marked," she said flatly, staring at it.

"I was," Bellatrix breathed, and she actually twirled in place. "Oh, Cissy, I can't even _say_ what it was like…" She pressed a hand against her forehead and sank down very slowly into the armchair in which Narcissa had been sitting before she had come to the door.

_And I don't care to know what it was like, thank you very kindly._

Narcissa loathed all manner of talk about the Death Eaters. It sickened her, for she knew – she _knew_, very deep down, in ways that she couldn't entirely explain and that she was quite aware were not the most clever or logical, but she knew nonetheless – that the Death Eaters would be the downfall of her sister.

She was sure of this, no matter how many times Bellatrix insisted that she was safe.

"The Dark Lord is an incredible man," Bellatrix breathed, brushing hair back from her forehead and smiling again at Narcissa with that frighteningly beatific smile. It did not suit her.

"Is he?" Narcissa ground her teeth together lightly. She wished that Lucius would come home quickly and free her of the burden of having to listen to her sister wax poetic about the many ways in which the Dark Lord surpassed all other men – he was better spoken, more handsome, more accomplished, and any number of other things that Narcissa suspected that Bellatrix would not have cared about, had they not been connected to the Dark Lord, but that, by the very virtue of being connected with him, were the only matters of which Bellatrix would speak.

"He is," she confirmed, then she looked at Narcissa and the airy, sweet and angelic expression that she had been wearing slipped from her face. "Narcissa… I must confess."

That made Narcissa alert instantly. She stepped close to her sister and could feel her heart beating a quick and dizzying pattern against her bodice. "Bellatrix? Confess what? Confess what, Bella – is it a matter concerning the Dark Lord?"

"Yes," she breathed.

_She is in danger. I am in danger. She has put herself in danger. She has put me in danger._

"What?" Narcissa asked in a small, tremulous voice.

Bellatrix looked fair ready to burst with joy. She leapt to her feet and caught Narcissa in her arms. "Oh Cissy, you- you will be so happy for me!"

"I will? And why?"

Bellatrix pulled back, and her eyes shone so brightly that Narcissa thought her feverish. She laid a hand on her cheek, an action which it seemed Bellatrix mistook for affection, for she put her hand over Narcissa's, then moved it to her lips and kissed her fingers.

"He took me to his bed," she whispered ecstatically.

Narcissa blinked. She had expected some declaration that Bellatrix would soon be running off to participate in some deadly mission halfway across the globe, or perhaps to be told that the Dark Lord had some use for her and that she was to come to his manor immediately to serve his every whim.

_Clearly, Bellatrix did a fair enough job of serving his every whim._

"Well," Narcissa said, pressing her lips together disapprovingly, "I don't see what that has to do with me–"

"I wanted to tell you! You are my sister!" Bellatrix looked rather insulted. She pulled back and crossed her arms defensively across her breast, blowing a loose thread of hair out of her eyes with an impatient huff of breath. "I would have thought that it would be of some interest to you that your sister had just bedded–"

"I do not care to hear the sordid details of your sex life, Bellatrix," Narcissa said. She tried to sound imperious, but her voice broke down at the end of the line. She struggled for a moment, and then, as Bellatrix continued to glare at her, she could not help but burst into a small fit of giggles. "Oh, _stop that!_ It's rude to stare!"

"It's ruder to giggle," Bellatrix said, but a smile was inching onto her face too. "I _can_ tell you about it, can't I, Cissy? You don't really mind, do you?"

"Of course not." Narcissa's laugh died away, but she kept her smile hitched onto her face and sank down into an armchair opposite Bellatrix and folded her hands in her lap quite politely, then looked at her older sister with an expectant smile. "Tell me, then."

Bellatrix clasped her hands at her breast and tipped her head back, staring up at the ceiling. "It's… oh Merlin, Narcissa, it was so incredible… after the ceremony where he marked me, he took me up to his bedchamber…"

"I would have guessed that, wouldn't I?" Narcissa said dryly. She was digging her fingernails lightly into the palm of her hand to distract herself from how she wanted to slap Bellatrix. "You did say that you bedded him…"

"I don't think you really want to hear this at all, do you?" Bellatrix asked, frowning. "You aren't happy for me at all, are you? I mean, I would have thought that you would be at least a little interested in your oldest sister being taken to bed by the Dark Lord…"

"Aren't you supposed to be married?" Narcissa snapped, losing all patience. "Doesn't that bother you in the slightest? You have a husband who you ought to be a little ashamed of being unfaithful to…"

For the first time, Bellatrix's angelic smile faded. She glared down at her sister. "Oh, thank you so much, Narcissa. You just had to drag him into this, didn't you? God, Narcissa, you're such a brat - don't you think that I can make my own choices about the men I sleep with?"

"Obviously not," Narcissa said quite snappishly, "because you've chosen the Dark Lord instead of the man you married. There are plenty of women who would have killed to be with Rodolphus, and you just cast him aside…"

"He's dull," Bellatrix said, waving one hand through the air as if waving Rodolphus and his dullness away. "He isn't anything like the Dark Lord. Oh Cissy, the things he did to me…"

"Lovely, kinky things I'm sure." Narcissa stood up and crossed the room, wrenching the doors of a cabinet open and pulling out a bottle of wine. Her hands were shaking and she needed the drink to steady her nerves. "I'm sure he was absolutely wonderful with you and knew every single thing you wanted…"

"Yes, he did." Bellatrix stood up, and though Narcissa kept her back turned to her, she knew that she was advancing threateningly on her. "Yes, he knew exactly every last thing that I ever could have wanted, all the things that I never would have dared tell Rodolphus about - what, does that bother you, Cissy? Because Lucius doesn't know?"

"No," Narcissa said immediately.

"So you don't deny that Lucius doesn't know?"

"I would never have denied it," she said quietly, still with her back turned to Bellatrix.

She would never have told anyone that Lucius knew what she desired, never would have said that he was some sort of prodigy in bed and understood her to the very depths of her soul, but she would certainly have said that someone else did.

It was so unfair. It was so unfair that Narcissa was married to Lucius when she loved another man and he loved Bellatrix… it was a farce, a mockery of real life, and it sickened her.

Rodolphus would not leave Bellatrix before - Narcissa had begged him time and again to divorce his wife and run away with her - but now she was going to bed with the Dark Lord, and he was still married to her, and Narcissa doubted that he would ever leave her, no matter now much Narcissa wanted him to, no matter how little Bellatrix deserved him, even though she was unfaithful to him, even though she very clearly preferred the Dark Lord…

"Jealous," Bellatrix breathed, her lip curling. "You're so petty, Cissy. You don't want me to be happy at all, just because you couldn't find a man who pleased you…"

"And what makes you think I couldn't?" Narcissa snapped. She whirled around to stare down Bellatrix, and her whole body was heaving with suppressed rage. Bellatrix regarded her with mild curiosity and surprise.

"Did you, Cissy?" she purred. "Do tell… have you found a man better than your husband?"

Narcissa would have paid dearly - more than paid dearly, she would have gladly given Bellatrix everything she had - to be able to tell her, to be able to watch the look on her face when it dawned on her that her sweet, innocent little sister was having an affair with her husband._What would she do_, Narcissa idly wondered. _Would she fly into a rage, or would she laugh and tell Narcissa that she had suspected it for years because neither of them could even begin to keep a secret?_

But Narcissa couldn't tell her. She couldn't tell her because she was afraid of what she would say - what if she was furious and told Narcissa that she never wanted to see her again? What if she told Lucius that his wife was a harlot…

What if she left Rodolphus?

Narcissa couldn't do that to Rodolphus. She could pray that he left Bellatrix, but she knew that he never would, because he loved her - no, not even loved her. Love was a pure and sacrificial thing like Narcissa felt for him. What Rodolphus felt for Bellatrix was more obsession than anything else, an obsession with having the most beautiful women that any of them had ever known as his very own. If it had only been love, he would have left Bellatrix the moment he realized that she desired another, the way that Narcissa was willing to watch Rodolphus with Bellatrix and not say a word. It was more important to her to see her beloved happy than to see him with her.

So she said nothing.

"I am happy for you," she managed to tell Bellatrix, after a very long time of struggling with herself to be sure that the words "I am bedding your husband" didn't slip from her mouth.

"Are you?"

"Dreadfully happy," Narcissa said, and she hitched a sweet mask of a smile firmly onto her face. "I couldn't be happier."

And Bellatrix had believed her.


	5. Chapter 5

Narcissa tossed and turned through the night, unable to get herself to sleep. She felt ill, there was a sheen of sweat on her skin and every time she turned over, the pillow felt hot and damp beneath her cheek. Perhaps she had contracted some illness from the prisoners now inhabiting her house, and before long, she would be lying dead in the ground, stricken down by some terrible disease…

_Stop thinking like that, Cissy. That's madness._

"Are you all right?" Lucius murmured from beside her, and she didn't know how to answer. Should she tell him that yes, everything was completely all right, when that was a lie that he would surely have been able to detect immediately? Or would it be better to tell him that there was some minor problem that was bothering her, to make up some reason why she was not calmly asleep and hope that he would take that to be a suitable excuse? Or maybe she should tell him…

She couldn't.

She couldn't do that to the man who had been so kind to her, she couldn't break his heart after all she had done, even though her own heart was being torn apart every moment that she was apart from Rodolphus. Better hers than Lucius's - she was the one who had sinned, she was the one who had done wrong and been unfaithful when he had done nothing but be a good husband to her for every day that they had been together…

"I need to get something to drink," Narcissa said quietly, sitting up. She slipped out of bed, tiptoeing to the door and down the hall, pausing to glance at herself in the mirror that stood at the end of the corridor. She was pale, her skin glittering with perspiration, and with her white nightdress billowing in a slight draft and her pale hair streaming around her face, bleached as pale as the hair of a drowned person, she looked more like a wraith than a woman. Rodolphus had always told her that her frailty was beautiful and that he loved her delicate build and colouring, but Narcissa had never believed that it was really beautiful at all, and looking at herself now, she doubted it even more. She looked frightening and grim, even to herself - nothing like the beautiful woman that she had once been.

Nothing like the beautiful woman that she should still have been.

It was all so unfair. It was so unfair that this was what she had become. She looked like it was she who had been pulled from Azkaban, it looked like it was she who had been in prison for fourteen years without hope of escape, and why, when she had been treated like a queen for every one of those days, when she had been given everything that her heart could have desired and more, and when she had never once been told anything but that she was a wonderful, beautiful woman, a perfect wife to Lucius and a perfect mother to Draco? She was what every woman aspired to be, the creature that they all thought too good to be true but secretly wished and prayed that they could one day be like.

They didn't know that she was far from a perfect wife, of course.

Narcissa slipped down the stairs, away from her bedroom. Away from Lucius.

When she reached Rodolphus's door, she did not knock, but pushed it in gently and let the soft creaking announce her presence.

He was lying in bed with his back to her and the blankets pulled over his bony frame. She could see them puckering against his ribs, and the one arm that lay on top of them was so thin that she could see the space between the bones in his forearm.

"Rodolphus?" she whispered.

Rodolphus turned over slowly, and though he had been lying quite perfectly still when she had entered the room, now she could see that his eyes were wide open and unclouded by sleep.

"Cissa." He sat up slightly, then leaned back again. "What's wrong?"

She stepped closer to him, her heart fluttering against her rib cage. "Rodolphus, I–"

"You what?"

She swallowed hard. He was doing this on purpose, being difficult on purpose. If he would only just let her talk, everything would be all right, but no, of course he had to interrupt her and make her feel like he didn't care what she had to say…

Not that she thought that. Of course he cared - he always had. He had cared more than anyone else, he had treated her better than anyone else, he had…

"I love you, Rodolphus."

The words slipped out and Narcissa could do nothing to retrieve them. She stared at him with desperate eyes, hoping, praying that he would understand and that he would respond with a declaration of love to match, but she didn't know why she dared hope.

Rodolphus snorted. "I'm sure. I'm sure you do. That's why you let me rot in prison for fourteen years, never a word from you…"

"I never gave a word to my sister either! I couldn't, Rod, you know I couldn't."

"I don't care what reasons you have," he told her, but Narcissa shook her head and pushed the door shut. She moved towards him, feeling almost like she was floating, and extended her arms towards him. "Rodolphus… Rodolphus…"

"Cissa?"

"I love you so much, Rodolphus," she told him in a tremulous voice. "Please, don't- don't make me stop… don't make me feel like I shouldn't love you, I've already got Lucius and Bellatrix to do that…"

Rodolphus didn't look away from her. He seemed transfixed and perhaps even unable to speak, and when Narcissa climbed onto the bed beside him, he neither pulled back nor pushed her away. He seemed more than willing, though he barely moved, as her hands slowly caressed his cheeks and moved down to pull the blankets back from his chest.

"Oh, Rod…"

He was so thin that every rib stood out against his pale skin, which was caked with grime. Narcissa smoothed her hand over his chest and felt tears rise in her eyes when she saw him flinch.

"You're… you're so thin," she whispered and Rodolphus let out a small, mirthless laugh.

"Something to do with being in Azkaban, I think. It can be hard on a body…"

Narcissa laughed, but her voice broke and she ended up sobbing. "Oh God, Rod… I- I never meant for any of this–"

"Of course you didn't – it's not as if I blame you. Don't cry, Cissa, don't…"

"You shouldn't be the one comforting me!" Narcissa said, but she let him wipe her tears. It felt so good to cry to someone other than Lucius – as much as Lucius thought he understood, it was nothing compared to the truth and he never _could_ understand the truth – not as long as Narcissa kept her secrets…

"Did you think of me while you were in Azkaban?" Narcissa asked tearfully.

"Of course I did – I couldn't _not_ think of you." Rodolphus reached up and twined his arms around her, pulling her down beside him on the bed. She could smell sickness and sweat on his skin, but she didn't care. If anything, she enjoyed the sour, sharp smells. They reminded her that this was real, that she was _really_ in Rodolphus's arms again.

"Often?"

"Every day."

She didn't know whether he was being honest. How could she have known – she had become such a practiced liar that she knew how easily one could disguise even the most blatant lies as truth and Narcissa knew Rodolphus to be even more skilled than she was. He might not have thought of her at all, but it pleased her nonetheless to think that he had.

"And did you think of me?" he asked quietly. "While you were here, free… did you think of me?"

"Every day," Narcissa breathed, and she meant it with all her heart and soul. Rodolphus had been in the back of her mind forever, though she tried to convince herself that she had not thought about him.

What was the use in lying to herself? She could no longer tell herself that she was a faithful wife to Lucius, not while she was lying in bed with another man.

Rodolphus's hand moved slowly to her waist, then trailed up to touch her breasts through the fabric of her nightdress.

"You're so beautiful, Cissa," he murmured, but his eyes were closed, and Narcissa wondered if he was conjuring an image of Bellatrix to his mind. His hand tightened on her and she let out a small gasp.

"I love you, Rodolphus – please don't ever believe I don't…"

"I wouldn't ever believe you didn't," he told her, then his mouth was on hers and Narcissa sighed in pleasure, melting into his arms. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, wetting his face as he kissed her, but neither of them cared and he mercifully did not slow.

His hands felt cold and sharp against her skin as he pulled the neck of her nightdress down to expose one shoulder. He stroked her gently and Narcissa trembled.

"Oh, Rodolphus… I love you," she murmured, in a small, shaking voice. "I do…"

"I know."

Then her nightdress was off and Rodolphus was laying kisses all over her body, so gentle, so soft. He shook a little, as if from nerves, as he spread her legs, and Narcissa let out a low, soft gasp. She let him push her down onto the bed and mount her, and she moaned and sighed as he moved so slowly and carefully against her.

She was unsure whether he was being so gentle for her benefit or for his – after all, he was the one weakened from Azkaban, and yet, she felt as if he was purposefully trying not to hurt her.

That was very much a change from how things had been between them before. Rodolphus had been a rough lover, had taken what he desired from her when he desired it – thankfully, there were few times when she did not desire to please him as well – but now, he was treating her more as Lucius did. He seemed almost afraid that she might shatter if he did anything that might hurt her.

"Rodolphus?"

"Yes, Cissa?" he murmured in her ear, catching the lobe gently between his teeth and biting very lightly. Narcissa breathed out a sigh of pleasure, but it was more for show and because she felt as though she ought to have taken pleasure in it than because being bitten so gently pleased her.

"Are you- do you feel very weak from Azkaban?"

"Not terribly," he told her, pulling back a little. "Why do you ask?"

"Because- Rodolphus, please don't be so gentle with me," she whispered. "I don't want that – I could have Lucius if I wanted someone to treat me like a little porcelain doll that's going to smash if you touch it wrong…"

"But Cissa–"

"If you love me, you'll hurt me when I ask you to," Narcissa breathed, her breast heaving. She looked up at him with her eyes wide and imploring. "Please, Rod, it's what I want."

"You want me to hurt you?" His lips twitched. "That's different from how you used to be…"

"I always liked it when you hurt me," she said. "I just… I didn't say. Please, Rod…" She pulled back from him and her hand slid slowly down his chest, his fingers running over the ridge that each of his ribs made in his skin, and she took his cock in her hand, stroking it with light and teasing movements. "I know that you like doing it too – or, you did…"

"I do," he whispered. "I still do."

"Then do it." Narcissa tipped her head back, looking at him through lowered lashes and allowing a small and saucy smile to appear on her lips. "Slap me, hit me, hurt me, do what you want to me…"

Rodolphus looked worried for a moment, then he brought his hand up and slapped Narcissa lightly on her cheek.

It wasn't much. Narcissa had memories of Rodolphus all but beating her until she was dizzy when he made love to her, had memories of having to hide bruises for days afterwards and had memories of how that had pleased her, though she disliked to admit it. The little slap that he had given was so different and so much less than that, but it was still far more than Lucius had given her. Lucius, who was such a gentleman in bed – just as much between the sheets as he was when he was talking to the Minister of Magic…

Narcissa wrapped her legs around Rodolphus's waist and moaned encouragingly. He gave her another swift slap, making her body jolt and a gasp slip from between her lips.

"Oh, _Rodolphus…_"

"You like that?" he murmured in her ear. His voice was lower and huskier than she had heard it before then, a rough and sweet sound that reminded her wonderfully of how things had been.

"Yes, yes, I do… you know that I do."

So he slapped at her and she moaned and writhed against him until he slid deep inside her.

Narcissa's back arched and a desperate gasp left her lips. Tears of pleasure filled her eyes. She grasped at Rodolphus, clinging to him and pulling on his hair, and he groaned with her every moment.

"It's been… it's been a dreadfully long time," he murmured.

"I- I know – I've missed you badly, I've missed _this_…"

He braced himself by grabbing onto the bedpost for leverage and pounded into her, and Narcissa's head fell back. She squirmed upon the bed, her legs wide apart and sweat pouring down her face.

"Rodolphus–"

"I love you, Cissa," he panted. "I love you, I love you…" But his eyes were closed.

"Look at me, Rodolphus!"

His eyes snapped open at the sharpness in Narcissa's voice and he looked at her rather questioningly. "What?"

"Look at me while you're making love to me."

He seemed somewhat confused by the order, but he didn't close his eyes again. They did glaze over and Narcissa wondered whether he was really seeing her, though he was looking directly at her. She caught his head and kissed him, pressing her lips roughly against his in the hope that this would remind him _who_ he was in bed with now.

"Cissa," he moaned softly when he spilled inside her, and Narcissa let herself go, trembling and tightening and falling back against the pillows in a quivering mess. Rodolphus covered her in kisses, pulled her close to his chest and stroked her body, running his rough fingers over her soft flesh and Narcissa should have been able to take from that that he really did love her and that all her suspicions that he was still more in love with Bellatrix were foolish, but there was still a small part of her that was wondering if she was the woman who he was thinking of.

"You're beautiful- Cissa," he murmured, and the tiny hitch of his voice between _beautiful_ and _Cissa_ only made her suspicion grow.

"More beautiful than Bellatrix?"

His eyes, which had fallen shut while he cradled her against him, snapped open and he gave her a sharp look.

"Bellatrix?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You _do_ think that I'm more beautiful than Bellatrix, don't you? That I'm better than her – you do love me more than her, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Narcissa," he said, not without a brush of impatience in his voice. "Really… why would you think otherwise?"

Her shoulder rose into a small shrug and she shook her head, but he was closing off from her already, pulling back so that he did not need to touch her anymore. Narcissa could have sworn that she could feel her heart break when he moved away.

"Rodolphus, I- I just wanted to be sure…"

"You don't trust me," he said rather flatly, glaring at her. "You don't believe that I love you, no matter how many times I tell you so."

"I _do_ believe you!" Narcissa cried. Oh, _why_ had she had to speak – she should have known that, no matter what he felt in honesty, he would only tell her that he did love her more than Bellatrix. Why had she ruined what had been a nearly perfect moment by asking such a foolish question?

"You're so suspicious," Rodolphus hissed. "Why?"

"I am not suspicious!" Narcissa cried. "Please, Rodolphus, forget I said…"

He didn't respond. He turned over, arching his back and facing away from her. "Go. You can go back to your husband – you can be _sure_ that he doesn't love anyone else more than you, and that's what you want, isn't it? You want to be absolutely _positive_ that you can trust the person you're sleeping with and you don't think you'll be able to trust me…"

"Rodolphus, of _course_ I trust you!"

"You don't act it," he said icily. "Now leave, or I'll call for someone."

Narcissa's lip trembled but she said nothing more. She dragged her nightdress on and straightened it, then stumbled out of Rodolphus's bedroom, trying to hold back any show of emotion. Anger, sadness, guilt… she could not let herself demonstrate any of them.

_It's not fair._

It wasn't fair that Narcissa had to be suspicious of the man she loved – and she did _have_ to be suspicious, for she _knew_ that he loved Bellatrix, no matter how many times he might insist that she meant more to him than anything.

_Oh, don't be such a child, Narcissa. Life isn't fair._

She ought to have been happy that he would lie with her at all. She ought to have been grateful that he loved her enough for that instead of moping that he might love her sister more. What man in their right mind would _not_ love Bellatrix more, after all? She was beautiful in a way that Narcissa wasn't, she was clever and learned and seductive…

She had all the qualities that a man like Rodolphus deserved to have in a wife.

_Of course, she's in love with the Dark Lord, and if Rodolphus would just realize that she's never going to stop loving him…_

Narcissa sank down against the wall, unwilling to go back to her bedroom and see Lucius.

Wouldn't everything just be wonderful if Bellatrix and Rodolphus had never gotten married?

Narcissa had only been thirteen when the announcement that Bellatrix and Rodolphus were going to be married was made, which was nowhere near old enough for her to fully understand what it had meant. She could only remember that she had been sitting at the dining room table with Andromeda next to her and her parents sitting across from them with a stony expression.

Bellatrix had blown into dinner late, as she so often was. Narcissa didn't know what she did in her time away from the family, but she had suspicions that it involved all sorts of behaviour that her family would have named _improper_. Judging by the way Bellatrix had looked – windswept and almost ecstatic, wearing a large smile, her breast heaving slightly – Narcissa would have guessed that she had been up on the moors, probably with some of the boys that she occasionally heard her and Andromeda whispering and giggling about.

"Is something wrong?" Bellatrix asked, the smile slipping from her face immediately. She looked back and forth between Narcissa and Andromeda on their side of the table and Cygnus and Druella on theirs.

"Sit down, Bellatrix," Cygnus said firmly.

Bellatrix sank down slowly, and Narcissa's heart began to beat faster. She hadn't been told what the matter at hand was and she couldn't have understood it if she had – all that she knew was that everyone looked far too serious. Andromeda reached over and held her hand.

"What's happening, Father?" Bellatrix asked.

"Bellatrix, we have wonderful news!" Druella said. She was clearly trying her very hardest to look excited, but even Narcissa could detect the note of desperation in hr tone. It didn't sound to her like she was excited, it sounded like she was scared.

"What news?" asked Bellatrix, eyeing her warily.

"We've just had word from the Lestranges–" Druella began and Bellatrix cut her off with a sharp intake of breath.

"From the Lestranges?" she asked, and now she sounded suspicious and accusatory. "It wasn't a message concerning me and Rodolphus, by any chance, was it?"

"It was, as it happens," Druella said, clearly attempting to keep her composure. "He has accepted your hand in marriage–"

"_Accepted?_" Bellatrix shrieked. Narcissa winced, trying to cover her ears, and Andromeda grabbed them, holding them down and giving her a sharp look.

"_Cissy, stay still!_" she hissed in her ear and Narcissa sniffed and nodded.

"He can't _accept_ my hand in marriage if I never _offered_ him my hand in marriage!" Bellatrix continued, rage all over her expression. She stood up, leaning over the table so that she was closer to her mother. "I _never_ wanted to marry him, so he can't accept!"

"As it happens," Druella said calmly, "what is important is that your hand in marriage was offered, which it was. Your father and I–"

"Have _no right to–_"

"We have every right to tell a man that you will marry him," Cygnus interrupted. "You are our daughter, and you must carry on the family name, as the eldest girl–"

"Don't give me that speech _again!_"

"What speech?" Druella interrupted. "There will be no giving of speeches and there will be no fighting. You are going to marry Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix, and don't you get so upset, because it needn't happen very soon. You will have plenty of time to learn to enjoy his company."

"I already enjoy his company!" Bellatrix protested.

"Then there should be no problem–"

"Simply _enjoying his company_ does not mean that I want to _marry him!_" Bellatrix stamped her foot. "I _don't want to!_ I couldn't!"

"There is no reason that you shouldn't be able to," Druella said, and Narcissa was aware of her mother's voice becoming very cold. It was a rarity that Druella should be less than sweet to her daughters – less than sweet to anyone, in fact. Druella was always so poised and composed that it was quite disturbing when she became upset…

"There is _plenty of reason!_" Bellatrix cried. "Mother, he doesn't fancy me!"

"That's no reason not to be married," Druella said, and she too stood up. She was shorter than Bellatrix, but Bellatrix seemed to shrink a little at her presence. "And there will be no more discussion on the subject."

"But _Mother–_"

"_No more discussion on the subject!"_ Druella repeated loudly. "Now either sit down and behave like a lady about it, or you may go to your bedroom and stay there until you're willing to accept this marriage!"

Bellatrix's mouth twisted into a grimace as if she had just taken a large bite of something sour, then she turned away and stamped out of the dining room. Narcissa could hear her sister pounding up the stairs and the door of her bedroom slam in the distance.

Narcissa had fully expected Bellatrix to warm to the idea of marriage before long – so had everyone else. No one had ever even_considered_ that she might not, but years had passed and still, the very mention of a marriage to Rodolphus sent her into a moody state from which she would not emerge for hours or even days. Rodolphus, who came to their home often, seemed just as unwilling, and was apt to sulk if people talked about their impending marriage as well.

He never sulked when he was with Narcissa, though.

Narcissa had found herself so drawn to him, so fascinated by the man who was her sister's friend but who she so thoroughly did_not_ want to marry. Narcissa had not been able to understand it, had pondered many possibilities for why they would not wish to marry each other, but she had come up with no reason.

No reason, at least, until she and Rodolphus had–

A small shiver ran up Narcissa's spine just at the memory. She could still call to mind every detail of how he had made love to her, how he had taken her virginity, how he had told her when they lay in her bed afterwards that she was the reason that he didn't wish to marry Bellatrix.

She still didn't know why she had believed him.

But she had – Narcissa had been utterly _convinced_ that Rodolphus loved her passionately and that she was the sole reason that he didn't want to be with her sister.

It had been stupid, she realized now.

Because he _did_ want to be with her sister.

He must have wanted it more than anything else in the world, or else they surely would have been divorced barely a few years after their wedding. Even before Bellatrix had slept with the Dark Lord, they had never been a well-matched pair. Bellatrix was, people said, not well suited to marriage in the best of circumstances, and Rodolphus wasn't strong enough to put her in her place.

Narcissa had always had to laugh when she heard people who gossiped saying that Rodolphus was weak. They knew _nothing_. He was so much stronger than they ever could have known…

But he had always been weak with Bellatrix, she supposed. He was not apt to stand up for himself against her, and time after time, Narcissa had seen him backing down from her for no reason that she could see at all. Perhaps it was simply that she, Narcissa, knew better than anyone else how to manipulate her oldest sister into giving her what she wanted, but she could not understand why Rodolphus, for example, _knowing_ that Bellatrix was having an affair with the Dark Lord, did not _stop_ her.

Narcissa also didn't know why Bellatrix was _staying_ with Rodolphus. She didn't understand what she could gain from it, especially not anymore – after all, Bellatrix's reputation as a good, sweet little Pureblood girl was long gone. Why should she have to maintain a façade of fidelity when everyone knew that she had done so many things that were so much worse than having an affair? Divorces could be a disgrace, of course, to both parties involved, but surely no more of a disgrace than what Bellatrix and Rodolphus had already done…

Perhaps she simply liked to watch Narcissa squirm.

Perhaps Bellatrix knew all about Rodolphus and Narcissa's affair – perhaps she always had – and perhaps she simply liked to see Narcissa trying to hide it. Perhaps it amused her.

_She probably _does_ like that, doesn't she? She probably loves the idea of me trying to maintain dignity in front of her when she knows all about me…_

No. No, surely Bellatrix would rather have an excuse to divorce Rodolphus. If she did that, then she could have more time to be with the Dark Lord…

Narcissa's lips twitched into a small smile in spite of herself. Perhaps it was the Dark Lord who was ordering them to stay together so that he did not need to resist Bellatrix's advances.

But much as it amused Narcissa to think of the Dark Lord being horrified by the idea of Bellatrix adoring him so, if he did not have interest in her, then he would surely have not slept with her in the first place.

And if he hadn't slept with Bellatrix, then everything would be so much worse. Bellatrix might have developed feelings for Rodolphus in time, just as everyone had always said that she would, and maybe then, Narcissa wouldn't be able to come up with any reason for Rodolphus to continue to desire her. Then she would be stuck with Lucius – _poor Lucius, he deserved better than her_ – and Rodolphus and Bellatrix could be happy together…

Given all the Dark Lord's contributions to the Wizarding world, for all his efforts to purify blood and stamp out Mudbloods and Muggles, it seemed wrong that the thing Narcissa was most grateful to him for was that he was bedding her sister.

"Narcissa?"

She looked up, blinking and rubbing her eyes a bit. So lost had she been in her thoughts and musings on Rodolphus and Bellatrix's marriage that she had quite forgotten that she had been out of bed for what must have been a dreadfully long time now. Lucius was standing over her with an expression of concern.

"Have you been crying, Narcissa?" he asked.

Narcissa touched her cheek, felt something wet, and nodded. Easiest that way. She didn't need to explain _why_ she had been crying, after all – Lucius did not pry. He simply held out his hands to her and helped her to her feet.

"Come back to bed," he told her quietly.

"All right," Narcissa whispered. There was no other answer she wanted to give – she didn't want to stay out of bed any longer, she_certainly_ didn't want to go back to Rodolphus, and Lucius was such a good man…

Her legs wobbled and he caught her before she fell to the ground.

"Cissy, you're a mess," he whispered and she turned her head from him.

_Yes, of course I'm a mess, but I can't tell you why. I can't tell you anything._

He half-carried her upstairs and Narcissa let tears stream down her cheeks. She was grateful for the darkness to hide her tears and when Lucius laid her down, he still didn't know how she was crying.

"I love you, Lucius," Narcissa said quietly, before he lay down beside her, and he smiled.

"That's kind of you, Cissy…"

She smiled as he climbed in beside her, smiled through her tears, let him hold her, and she imagined him to be Rodolphus.


	6. Chapter 6

It took a terribly long time before Narcissa was able to work up the nerve to see her sister.

Every time she passed by the door to Bellatrix's chamber, she felt the conflicting urges both to go in and to run away. There was guilt, terrible guilt that she was not visiting her after she had been in prison for so long, but that was almost immediately and completely countered by the much stronger guilt that Narcissa felt for sleeping with her husband. Would she even be able to look at Bellatrix without bursting into tears of shame and confessing everything to her?

Narcissa stood outside of Bellatrix's door for a very long time before she took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.

If she had thought that Rodolphus looked sickly, skeletal and thin, he was nothing in comparison to Bellatrix. He looked positively _radiant_ in comparison to her. Bellatrix, Bellatrix who had once looked such a beauty, was lying still on the pillows, and she looked like a corpse that had been left to rot for a long time before being borne into a funeral home…

Even when Narcissa had seen her sister pass her by and when she had thought that she looked quite dreadful then, Narcissa had not been able to grasp just what a toll Azkaban had taken on Bellatrix.

"Bella?" she said quietly.

Bellatrix's eyes snapped open and she sat up, looking around feverishly. "My Lord?"

"No, Bella, it's me… Cissy…" Narcissa whispered, and Bellatrix seemed profoundly disappointed. She sank back onto the pillows and let out a long, shuddering sigh.

"Where is the Dark Lord, do you suppose?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," Narcissa said. "But Bella, how are–"

"Oh, I'm wonderful, can't you see?" Bellatrix demanded in a hiss. She sat up and glared. "Don't I look like I'm in an excellent state? For I've certainly never felt better than I do right now–"

"Bella, don't–"

"Don't what? I am being earnest, Narcissa, don't you believe me?" Bellatrix drew in a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh. "I can taste the air. Did you know that clean air has a taste, Cissy? It's so different than how things tasted in Azkaban…"

"I'm so sorry, Bella," Narcissa whispered.

"Don't say that. You aren't sorry."

"I am! If I thought that there was any way for me to make it better for you–"

"You wouldn't have done it," Bellatrix said dully. "There were plenty of things that you might have done, and you did none of them. You did nothing to facilitate the rise of the Dark Lord, for example–"

"I have given him my house!" Narcissa said indignantly. "You are in my home right now, Bellatrix – how can you say that I did nothing to help him?"

"You might have done it a long time ago instead of letting him wait for _Wormtail's_ help." The way that Bellatrix said Wormtail's name was so thick with scorn that it frightened Narcissa. Bellatrix seemed all but ready to kill …

"I'm sorry, Bella," Narcissa said timidly. "I did not know that the Dark Lord would rise again – I had every reason to believe he was dead, and it isn't my fault in any case," she added before Bellatrix could snap back at her. "I am not a Death Eater. I had no reason–"

"Your husband is a Death Eater, and your sister is as well," Bellatrix said. "You might have cared."

_Lucius had the good sense to keep himself out of Azkaban_, Narcissa wanted to say, _so don't drag him into this_, but she kept her mouth shut.

"It doesn't matter now," she said, hoping that she sounded soothing. "You're free now–"

"I'm free _now!_" Bellatrix snapped. "But I spend fourteen years in that prison, Narcissa, _fourteen years!_"

"I know–"

"You know nothing!" Bellatrix hissed. "You know _nothing_ about how things were in there – you know _nothing _about what it was _like_ to be in there – don't you _dare_ pretend that you do!"

"I never said that I did!" Narcissa shouldn't have come in and talked to her sister at all. She should have stayed away. Bellatrix clearly hated her, so why was she bothering? She ought to just leave and stay away, never talk to her again…

"But you think that you do! You think that you know what it's like because you've been _imprisoned_ too – because being in our manor is nothing like being there – dear God, Narcissa, you act as though you know all about prisons–"

Narcissa was backing away slowly. She didn't want to hear this, not any of it, certainly not from her sister. She had _never_ pretended to know about prisons, and she told herself that fiercely.

"I'm leaving," she said, trying not to let her voice shake too badly.

"Leave, then!" Bellatrix cried. "Leave – go – I don't care!" She grabbed a cup of water that someone had left on her bedside table and flung it at Narcissa, who ducked and cowered.

"Bellatrix!"

There was a moment of silence, then Bellatrix broke down into tears. Her whole body heaved with sobbing. "Cissy- Cissy, I've- I'm sorry- I've just missed you so much…" She reached out and tried to grab at Narcissa, who released a breath that she had been holding.

"It's all right, Bella…"

"It's not all right – nothing's all right…"

Narcissa patted her sister's hair tentatively. It felt like the matted coat of a wild animal and Narcissa flinched a little but petted her anyway. Bellatrix's eyes closed and she rubbed her head lightly against her sister's hands, once again, calling to mind an animal, though now Narcissa was thinking more of a tame one than a wild one.

"It was hellish in there, Narcissa," Bellatrix murmured. "You don't know… I can't explain what it's like being with those Dementors all day and all night…"

"Is there- is there anything you want to talk about?" Narcissa asked tentatively, mentally begging Bellatrix to say no, and she sighed with relief when Bellatrix shook her head slowly.

"I won't speak of it anymore," Bellatrix said softly. "It's over – and now the Dark Lord has freed me, he is ready to reward me for my faith."

"Mm," was all that Narcissa could say.

"Have you seen him?" Bellatrix asked. She sat up a little more and caught onto the front of Narcissa's dress, looking up at her with wide, slightly wild eyes. "Has he been here? Has he asked after me?"

"No," Narcissa said, repressing her urge to shove Bellatrix back. It was terrifying to have her clinging to her so…

"Oh…" Bellatrix sank back onto the pillows, burying her face in her hands. "He does not care, then…"

"Of course he cares, don't act like he doesn't, Bella," Narcissa said, touching her sister's arm.

"You will send him to see me when he does come here, will you not, Cissy?" Bellatrix asked in a small and croaking voice, and Narcissa nodded, as if she had any authority over what the Dark Lord did. She could not even speak to him without shaking terribly and stumbling over her words for fear, but it was better that she tell Bellatrix that she would send him up than tell her that she couldn't.

"Thank you," Bellatrix said, then she laid back, closing her eyes. Narcissa watched her for a moment to be sure that she was breathing before she stood up and backed away. Guilt churned in her belly.

_Why am I hurting her?_

Narcissa didn't _want_ to hurt her – indeed, she had always been able to convince herself that she wasn't hurting Bellatrix at all because Bellatrix didn't want Rodolphus and so the whole matter was insignificant to her. After all, Bellatrix loved the Dark Lord and took no interest in her husband, so Narcissa should not have felt any sort of remorse for stealing her husband away from her…

_And it's hardly as though I'm really stealing him at all, as he is not ever going to leave her._

But when Narcissa looked at her sister when she was in this state, she could only feel guilt.

Guilt because everything was so dreadfully unfair.

_It will do you well to stop dwelling on how unfair everything is._

Narcissa turned and left her sister's bedroom with all the dignity she could muster, for she didn't want to behave for even a moment longer as if Bellatrix could make her feel_bad_. It wasn't right to believe so because Bellatrix hadn't done a thing to her. Bellatrix probably didn't care that she was sleeping with Rodolphus…

_Narcissa cared._

She went down to the parlour with shaky steps and sank down onto the couch beside Lucius, who was reading the Daily Prophet with a grim expression.

"What news is there?" she asked him, leaning close and resting her chin upon his shoulder.

"None," he said. "I suppose I should be pleased by that, since they're still convinced that the Potter boy is lying and the Dark Lord hasn't risen yet…"

"Why should you be pleased by that?" Narcissa dropped her voice to a whisper and glanced around, praying that they were not being listened to, before she whispered into her husband's ear, "Lucius… as long as the Dark Lord is active, we are going to have to live this way. I want it to end, Lucius, I want it to _end_."

"When it ends, it will end badly," Lucius said, rather sharply. "And the Dark Lord would not take kindly to you even having such thoughts, Narcissa, you ought to know – it wouldn't matter to him that you are not a Death Eater. Speaking that way would be a sign of lack of faith to his mind. He would have us both killed…"

Narcissa bit down on her lip. "But–"

"When it ends," Lucius whispered, "and I will only _assume_ that it will end with both of us alive, which it may not… but if it _does_, do you understand what will happen to us? You and I will both be put in Azkaban in a heartbeat – we can tell them that we were under the Imperius curse, but they won't believe us for a moment."

Narcissa felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes. "Surely we could–"

"There would be nothing that we could do, Narcissa." Lucius sounded too firm, harsher and more stubborn than Narcissa was either used to or fond of hearing him. "Do you understand me? It would be the end for both of us!"

"Really?" she asked, her lip quivering. "They wouldn't, surely – you are so close to the Minister…"

"And do you expect he would still be the Minister?" Lucius demanded in a hiss. "Do you expect that the Dark Lord is going to allow him to live once he had taken power from him? Do you think that the _next_ Minister after the war is going to be so terribly fond of former Death Eaters?"

"You don't think the Dark Lord is going to win, then?" Narcissa asked softly.

Lucius fell silent. He looked away from her, staring out one of the windows and over the grounds, then finally turned back to her with a very sombre expression.

"No," he said at last. "And you mustn't tell anyone that I'm telling this to you, Narcissa, because I would be killed for it…"

"I can keep secrets," Narcissa said quietly. _If only you knew the secrets I could keep._

"No," Lucius repeated. "I don't think that he is going to win. He didn't win before, but that was by virtue of his own error, and I don't doubt that he will make another such error eventually."

"You don't think he is going to be more careful?" Narcissa asked tentatively.

"Oh no, I'm sure that he will be _much_ more careful." Lucius sounded vaguely bitter. "But it is impossible to _not_ make mistakes, and there will eventually come a time when one mistake will ruin him. Power never lasts forever, Narcissa, and what he wants – immortality and power for every moment that he is alive… that will never work."

"You don't think that people can make things last forever?" Narcissa asked quietly.

_I can keep the secret forever – no one is ever going to know that I am lying with my sister's husband, and if I can keep that secret forever, then surely that is not so very different from keeping power forever…_

"No, I suppose not," Lucius said. "But power especially does not last forever. Power of the sort that the Dark Lord wants rarely even lasts _long._"

"I hope it doesn't," Narcissa whispered, then she let out a dry sob. "I just want things to be _right_ again, as they were before the first war–"

"I wish that things could be that way too…" Lucius said softly, then he shook his head. "But then, wishing rarely does us good, does it?"

_Wishing has done me far more good than doing anything ever has_, Narcissa thought, but she did not say so.


End file.
